I Said Some Horrible Things
by DragonChild157
Summary: Set at the end of the season 1 episode: Asylum. Sam deals with his feeling of guilt over what happened in the Roosevelt Asylum.


This is set in Season one, the episode Asylum. This is also my _first_ time writing Supernatural, so I apologize for any OOCness that _might_ have occurred. I'll get better with practice with these characters.

**Useless Disclaimer:** I do not now nor have I ever owned Supernatural, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padelecki or anything else that has to do this show. I just borrow them and bring them out to play every now and then. :)

**Note to my usual readers:** For those of you currently following some of my other stories, I apologize _profusely_! As it says on my profile my computer has crashed and I have yet to find a new one or recover my files off of my old one. I _will_ finish those stories, I just can't seem to write them right now. My brain _refuses_ to work and/or remember what it was I had before. Thank you so much for you _saintly_ patience!

* * *

ENJOY!

* * *

Sam raised his head and turned to face his brother. "Hey Dean?" His brother turned to look at him. Sam forced himself to meet Dean's gaze. "I'm sorry man. I said some awful things in there."

Surprise showed on Dean's face. "You remember all that?"

Sam gave little shamefaced nod. "Yeah. It was like I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean it. _Any _of it."

"You didn't huh?"

"No, of course not….Do we need to talk about this?"

For a minute Sam thought he would, but then Dean shook his head and turned back to the car. "No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood." He tossed the bag in the Impala and climbed in after it. "I just wanna get some sleep."

Sam sighed and followed him. Truth be told, he _did_ want to talk. What he'd said and done in that asylum… It almost felt like an apology wasn't enough. Like there should've been something else. He _needed_ to talk. But no, Dean wouldn't talk. No chick flick moments was one of his biggest rules.

If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't.

The car ride was dead quiet. Dean's attention was on the road. He didn't even have any music playing. Leaving Sam's mind free to wander down paths he really didn't want to be on but couldn't quite manage to get off of. Leaving his mind free to torture him. Instant replay.

He could see it perfectly in his mind.

* * *

_It was cold. _

_The asylum. _

_It contrasted starkly with the molten rage coursing through him. All of it focused on the man he was holding a gun on._ _"__Is that an order?"_

_Dean gave a slight shrug, his tone just this side of sarcastic. "No, it's more of a friendly request." _

_Sam kept the gun leveled at Dean. "'cause I'm gettin' pretty tired of taking your orders." _

_Dean smiled a little, unwittingly stoking the rage in Sam higher. "I knew it." He stated, for all the world as if this were a normal conversation and he wasn't in danger of his little brother shooting him with a sawed off shotgun. "Ellicott did something to you didn't he?" _

_"__For once in your life, just shut your mouth." Sam hissed back. _

_"__What're you gonna do Sam? The gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me." _

_Sam pulled the trigger, watched his brother fly back through the hidden door from the force of the impact. "No, but it'll hurt like hell." He sassed, the words coming out of his mouth without his thought or consent. What was he doing? What was he saying? He'd just shot his brother with a shotgun full of rock salt! But his body was acting independently of his mind._

_He stepped into the room. His older brother was gasping, his hands gingerly cupped over where Sam had shot him._

_"__Sam." Dean gasped, head craning to look around the room, clearly checking for the ghost. Even when he was being shot at he was doing his job."We gotta burn Ellicott's bones. Then all this'll be over. And you'll be back to normal." _

_"__I am normal." Sam assured him. "I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean why are we even here? 'cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? 'cause you always do what he says without question?" His voice rose. "Are you _that_ desperate for his approval?" _

_Dean gave a quiet groan. That rock salt must've hurt a little more than Sam had thought it would. That or his trip through the closed door and the hard landing on the concrete floor beyond. _

_"__This isn't you talking Sam…" _

_"__That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own, I'm not pathetic, like _you_." _

_Some of Dean's attitude was coming back into his voice. "So what are you going to do? Huh? You gonna kill me?" _

_"__You know, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do." Sam gestured. "We're no closer to finding Dad today, then we were six months ago."_

_"__Well then here." Dean reached across his body and under the edge of his coat. Sam's gun was back on him in a heartbeat. Dean pulled out a gun, careful to keep his finger away from the trigger. "I'll make it easier for you." He slowly offered it up to Sam. "Go on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." Pain was coming back into his voice. He was definitely hurting. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, silently assuring Sam that he wasn't pulling a fast one. "Take it."_

_Sam snatched the gun from Dean's hand and his older brother looked up at him again. He stood there a moment, then dropped the sawed off to one side and leaned over Dean, leveling the pistol at him. _

_"__You hate me that much?" Dean whispered softly. "You think you can kill your own brother." Dean eyed him, then gave a little nod, seeming to accept it. "Well then go ahead. Pull the trigger." Sam leaned farther forward, his hands trembling on the gun. He didn't want to do this, he needed to stop it! But he couldn't stop it. He leveled the gun a bit more and saw Dean suck in a breath._

_ "__Do it." Dean growled._

Click.

_Sam stared at the gun in shock then tried again. Again and again…._

* * *

"Come on." Dean had grabbed a bag out of the back of the car and was rapping on Sam's window as he passed on his way into the motel room. "Come on Sammy, I wanna get some sleep _sometime_ today."

Sam sighed and followed Dean in. His brother headed straight into the bathroom. Sam dropped onto the hotel bed closer to the door. He was dead dog tired. He felt about as tired as Dean had looked. Sleep sounded like an _amazing _idea.

He laid back on the bed.

But he couldn't sleep.

Those clicks kept sounding over and over again in his head. He couldn't get it to stop. Because those clicks were the audible proof of what he'd done. He'd tried to kill his own brother. And when it hadn't worked he'd tried _again_.

Again and again.

"Son of a bitch!"

Sam sat up and looked toward the bathroom. Dean was still in there but, judging by the muttered curse, whatever he was trying to do wasn't working out all that well. Sam pondered it, wondering if he should go check on him, or if it would be better to leave him be. Then it suddenly occurred to him exactly what Dean was doing and Sam jackknifed off the bed.

"Dean?"

Dean's voice was muffled by the door. "I'm fine Sam."

Sam opened the door anyway. Everything inside him seized. It wasn't gory, or even particularly bloody. A lot of the things he'd seen and done as a hunter would leave this in the dust in terms of horror. But somehow this was still just as bad.

Dean was shirtless in front of the mirror, trying to pick the rock salt out of his wounds.

He glared at Sam. "Damn it Sam, I told you I was fine."

"What part of this qualifies as fine?!" Sam took a deep breath. "Dean, get your ass out here and let me help you."

Dean huffed and grumbled about brothers and overreacting and it's not all that bad, but he came out of the bathroom without too much cajoling. He flopped on the bed farther from the door, recognizing that Sam had claimed the other one. Sam clicked on the light over the bedside table and grabbed the first aid kit from Dean. "Scoot a bit closer to the light, ok?"

Dean grunted and did as he was told, moving closer to the edge of the bed. "Gettin' nearsighted?"

Sam ignored the teasing, grabbing a penlight and a set of tweezers out of the kit and settling on the side of the bed. "Damn it Dean, why didn't you just tell me? I would've been more than happy to help. I know rock salt hurts like hell."

"Yeah, no shit." Dean groaned as Sam picked one of the larger pieces out of his chest just under his breastbone. Sam had been aiming low when he shot him. Most of the rock salt was embedded somewhere between his navel and the bottom of his breastbone.

Sam shook his head and dropped the bloody piece of salt in the plastic lid Dean had been using. "I'm sorry Dean."

"For what?"

Sam gestured helplessly. "For this! It's my fault! You're my _brother_, I should've been able to stop myself from shooting you. I should've _seen_ Ellicott coming, or blasted his ass with rock salt, I _had_ the _gun!_ I should've been more careful when I went down there. Hell, I shouldn't have _gone_ down there in the first place, I should've know it was a trap! And all those things I _said_ to you…."

"Hey. _Hey. Sam."_ Dean pushed Sam's hands away and sat up, catching Sam's face in his hands. When Sam didn't respond as quickly as he would've liked Dean slid one hand a little farther and caught hold of Sam's hair. "Look at me. Ok? This wasn't you're fault."

Sam tried to shake his head but Dean's hold kept him doing anything more than the bare minimum. "Dean how can you say that? I _shot_ you almost point blank with rock salt."

"Yeah, and it hurt like a bitch. But…"

"Dean, I almost _killed_ you!" Tears welled and Sam dropped his eyes, unable to face his brother's astonished expression. He wrapped his hands around Dean's wrists, having abandoned the tweezers and penlight in his lap. But he didn't try to get Dean to let go. He just held on.

"I almost killed you Dean." He whispered. "If you'd handed me a loaded gun I _would've._ I did it. I pulled the trigger on you. I did it three or four times Dean! I tried to _kill_ you…"

"Hey. You look at me." Dean lifted Sam's head, forcing eye contact. "What happened. _Wasn't. Your. Fault_. You understand me? It wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you for any of it. And you can't blame yourself for it either. It wasn't _you_ trying to kill me it was that bastard Ellicott and he's dead and gone, I torched him myself. You were just along for the ride, and that's it as far as I'm concerned. You said yourself that you could see it but you couldn't stop it."

"But Dean…"

"No buts." Dean's voice was stern, and in that moment he _almost_ sounded like a kinder, more caring version of their father. Softer. Or maybe it was their mother Dean had learned it from, Sam couldn't imagine his Dad ever sounding like that. "No buts." Dean repeated. "You _didn't_ pull the trigger. Ellicott did. And that's all there is to it."

Somehow Sam found himself smiling, unable to comprehend his brother's unswerving faith in him. Unable to comprehend, but warmed and reassured by it nonetheless. He pulled Dean into a bear hug, and Dean returned it wholeheartedly.

"_Thank you_."

Dean smiled. "Anytime." He broke the hug and sat back. "You gonna be ok?" Sam nodded. "Good… Now, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Finish picking out the rest of this rock salt, it burns like you wouldn't _believe!_"

* * *

Ta-Da! There you go ladies and germs, my first fanfiction for Supernatural. Shoot me a comment and let me now what you think! I might even give you a cyber cookie!

Until next time...


End file.
